The Window
by srei22
Summary: There are times when you just have to take what you can get.
1. Chapter 1

Author: simonspoopoo (seri22)  
>Disclaimer: I don't own glee… sad face.<br>Author's Note: Future!fic

oOoOo 

Sometimes, when no one is looking, Kurt likes to pretend. It isn't something that he's very good at, but every now and then, Kurt likes to let his mind wander to places he knows are bad for him.

Like right now, when Sam's lips are lazily pressing themselves against his shoulder. In the dark corners of the brunette's mind, he pretends those lips will eventually trail their way to his. He may even pretend this whole thing means a little more to the blonde than just relieving frustration, more than lust.

But those moments are few, and far between. They leave an unforgiving emptiness in their wake, like the soothing cut of an impossibly brilliant blade.

Sam is grunting a little deeper as he starts pressing further, rougher into the brunette.

"I-I'm close." the blonde stammers, not knowing how much those words ring true for Kurt.

They're both breathing heavily when Sam presses his forehead against the smaller boy's. Their eyes meet when Kurt raises his hand to rest on the blonde's face.

Slowly, as if reluctant, Kurt's thumb lightly traces the outline of carnation pink lips. Sam's motions stagger at the contract, uncertainty in his eyes. Kurt lets his touch linger for a moment longer, knowing that he won't let himself make another mistake like this again for a while. Then, he reaches up and takes a handful of blonde hair, pulling roughly.

Sam seems to understand and quickly brings them both back to the edge. It doesn't take much longer for either of them to reach their climax. When they finally do, Sam is out cold before he collapses onto Kurt.

Normally, the brunette would roll out from under the other boy, try to occupy himself while waiting for Sam to wake up and leave. Maybe he's a little self deprecating, but he's okay with that, so he wraps his arms around the blonde, and snuggles closer. He doesn't play pretend very often, so he figures it's alright that he does it for a little longer.

oOoOo

Sam was dreaming.

He had been having this dream quite often recently, playing over and over behind the curtains of his mind. It was really more of a memory, really. He dreams of the first time he and Kurt slept together. Kurt was different back then, but Sam isn't sure how. It was back when his family was still living in the motel room, back before his parents were able to get back on their feet and able to buy their house back. He was only stopping by to drop off some more old clothes, while Quinn took Stacy and Stevie to the park. She was trying give Sam a chance to think, to wrap his head around what a hot mess his life was. He guesses it isn't much better now, but its fucked up for different reasons. His head is buried in his hands, fingers carding through his too-long blonde locks as his mind sorts aimlessly through his thoughts. Sam doesn't hear the knocking, nor does hear anyone slip in. He doesn't notice his name being softly called, doesn't feel the bed dipping slightly. It isn't until a warm, slender hand is resting on his thigh that Sam is pulled back from the darkness. He's just so _tired,_mentally and emotionally. He's honestly just so spent from keeping up so many masks and brave faces, each of them slowly slipping off. Kurt was something real and unyielding. Kurt was just… _there._ Sam's almost glad that this mask was the first to go.

His eyes, clouded with tears, lock themselves on Kurt's hand as it slowly runs up and down his thigh. The action is soothing, and before he has a chance to stop himself he's on top of Kurt, hands working their way under his shirt. The brunette is completely still, breath hitched and eyes wide. When Sam realizes what he's doing, suddenly going as still as the other boy. There is a moment where they stay there, Sam's hands motionless under Kurt's designer sweater, the brunette's mouth twisted into an uncertain frown. Then, Sam is lowering himself to Kurt's ear, breath ragged and lips trembling.

"Can I…" Tears start falling from Sam's eyes and run down the side of Kurt's face. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn't _want_ it this much. "Stop me."

Kurt lets out a a slow, shaky breath. He's still silent as his nervous hands reach for Sam's belt. It's awkward and sloppy, nothing like he imagined his first time would be, but its exactly what he needs. When its over, the two are silent and bare, staring at the ceiling. When Sam receives a text message from Quinn saying they were on their way back, the two silently dress. When Kurt slips into the his jacket, something in the air shifts as he spins around to face the blonde, smiling widely.

"Well, at least you weren't lying when you said we weren't 'hooking up' before." says the brunette, still smiling. "I guess w-"

Somethings buzzing on the floor, slowly rousing Sam back to reality. His eyes open slowly adjusting to the low light in the room. He's on Kurt's bed. And Kurt is under him. Still. He finds himself in his position more often than he's used to, and it's comfortable in the most unnerving way. Still, he doesn't move. It isn't very often someone gets to see Kurt like this; unguarded, peaceful. Almost happy. Sam tells himself that it isn't as though he waits for moments like this. Nine out of ten times, he believes it. After that afternoon in his motel room, things went on normally, Sam didn't really think about it because honestly, there was so much other shit in his life that he just didn't have the _time._Even if he did, what is one supposed to think after something like that happens?

Kurt still brought him clothes every now and then, one time even bringing him a muffin, but never breathing a word of that day, which Sam is grateful for. He isn't sure what he was thinking, and almost a year after the time in the motel, when he asks Kurt to come by his house after they've moved back in and they'd end up fucking in the living room surrounded by boxes of unpacked belongings, he still isn't sure what he was thinking. They didn't used to have sex so often. Usually, it was when Sam was really stressed or upset, like after he failed his third French test in a row, or the time he didn't make quarterback. At times like those, he'd text Kurt to come over, then make him scream loud enough to really piss off the neighbors. After they'd finish, Sam doesn't ask the Kurt why he does this for the blonde, and Kurt never offers an explanation. Instead, the next day, they'd nod to each other curtly in the hallways.

During their senior year, Sam started dating Quinn again and the boys don't see each other at all outside of Glee club. Sam doesn't ask Kurt to come over, and for a while, Kurt stops nodding to him in the hallways. It isn't until the summer after their graduation starts, when Quinn breaks it off between them and flies to Houston for an internship does Sam find himself in this familiar pattern. The difference is, he finds himself in Kurt's bed far more often. It's probably because they have the freedom and privacy to do so; at least, that's what Sam likes to tell himself. The brunette also picked up a a summer internship somewhere in the next city over, too far to drive to every day from the Hummel - Hudson house, so his dad agreed to help him find a place as long as it was still close enough that Kurt could still make it home for Family Dinner Night.

And so, here they are, a tangled mess of limbs and sheets on Kurt's giant bed, in his small apartment. He looks down at the marks sprayed along Kurt's neck, absently running his lips along them again. The buzzing on the floor starts up again, and he knows it's from Santana, so he chooses to ignore it for a few more minutes.

oOoOo

By the time Kurt opens his eyes, Sam is already slipping into his shoes. They've been doing this for too long for anything to feel awkward, so when Kurt enters the living room of his tiny apartment, he barely notices when Sam faces him, nods once, and leaves. Kurt stands in the same spot for a while, just staring at the muddy tracks Sam left on his linoleum floor. The soft _click_ of the door rings through his space longer than it should and Kurt can't stand it, so he stomps back into his room and throws himself into bed. Fully intending to sleep until the turn of the century, he lets his eyes fall shut.

_Courage._

The image burns in the back of his retinas before soft blue eyes pry themselves open. His mind is racing with thoughts and images that crash together. They keep him from any kind of peaceful state, let alone sleep. So he settles for counting the dots on his ceiling, convinced that the sum might bring order to his fucked up excuse for a life. He tells himself that he doesn't need a diary to write about his issues.

_There is a moment when you say to yourself, 'Oh, there you are!'_

Those words force him to remember how used to routine he is, and like clockwork, he's pulling out his copy of '_Tuck Everlasting' _ and starts scribbling onto the pages. It always amazes Kurt, how a simple idea bursts into pages upon pages of raw feelings and images as they translated into words onto the page under his pen. It's just as frustrating though, because he shouldn't have this much of an opinion on the matter. It's been years since Blaine broke up with him, since the kilt, since prom, since the kiss that-

_I-I'm Close._

The pen stops.

_Not this again._Kurt groans, because maybe he doesn't know what to think of this _thing_with Sam, but he likes to act like its finite, that it's _definitive._Even though Kurt makes the mistake of feeling something different every now and then, the bottom line is that they just fuck. There's a part of the brunette, the part of him that still likes fairytales and flowers delivered to his door, that part that still wants to read a book all the way to the happy ending. It's a part of him that _should_ be dead, and it thinks that this whole thing with Sam is actually really sad. Sam _is_ close. He's the closest thing to _happily ever after_ that Kurt will allow himself to believe in.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Window [2/10?]

Author: simonspoopoo (seri22)

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own glee… sad face.

Summary: Future!fic. There are times when you just have to take what you can get.

Author's note: So, if you haven't read or seen any of the peter pan stories or films, or at least Hook, then some of this story might not make sense to you. So I highly suggest looking it up on wikipedia or something. Thanks to my fabulous Beta, HanJob. 3

-OoOoO

Sam doesn't remember why he started seeing Kurt again, but he likes to pretend it's because of Santana. She really has nothing to do with it, but it makes the whole situation a lot easier to swallow. They aren't dating, him and Santana, they _definitely _aren't friends, and saying they tolerate each other would be generous. Still, Sam knows why the raven hair girl calls him at least three times a week for coffee, even if she isn't willing to say it. His blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and eyes that have managed to retain their child like brightness. These things bring Santana to that place where she isn't lonely, bring her to a happier place.

She looks up from her coffee to meet his eyes, grinning in a way that isn't as colourful as it used to be.

"Hey Lady Lips." She calls out to him, and Sam can't help but roll his eyes.

_Somethings never change._

They sit in pointless silence for a while before Sam begins to fidget. Hey waits though, because he knows Santana needs it. They do this every time they meet. Sometimes, they stay like this the entire time, just sitting there with half empty, cold cups of terrible coffee sitting between them. A thought tugs at the blonde's lips until a smirk starts peeking through.

"Kurt does this a lot." he says, and Santana puzzles at him. "With coffee, I mean. He'll get a grande and take two, maybe three sips out of it, then just holds the thing until it's cold." Santana doesn't say anything, just watches as his smirk unfolds into an actual smile. "I never really understood why." She watches as the corners of his mouth fall a little. "Then again, there isn't a lot I really understand about him."

She's still staring at him, and it makes him fidget again. She downs the rest of her drink before flagging the waitress over. He thinks she's getting ready to leave, but instead she orders them another round of drinks.

"Have you ever tried asking him?" The blonde takes a breath and tells himself he's nervous. For many reasons, he should be. This is the first time he's ever talked about this _thing_ with Kurt and it should terrify him. He lets himself believe it does.

"We don't really do a lot of talking." he says before he has a chance to stop himself. He didn't intend for her to know _that_ much.

Just then, the waitress comes back. "I'm sorry sir, I forget to ask what kind of milk you'd like with y-"

"Homo." Santana cuts in with a grin painted darkly on her face. Waitress nods and walks away. The blonde doesn't roll his eyes, but he'd really like to punch the raven hair girl in the face.

He doesn't think he is. Gay that is, not really. He isn't really sure _what_ he is, which is something he envies Kurt for. The brunette is always so sure of himself, even when he has no idea what he's doing. That idea shouldn't make any sense, but it suits Kurt perfectly. It's comforting, enough so that Sam doesn't even bother trying to deny anything to Santana. He'd really like to though.

"So are you going to ask him?" she asks, and Sam puzzles at her. "About the coffee thing, are you going to ask him?" She doesn't usually show any interest in his life, so it's strange that she does now. "Oh! You're just banging him. _Friends _with benefits. Alright, I can get that." she turns away, all traces of her smirk completely gone. He knows that it's a sore topic for her, but Sam can't bring himself to feel any sympathy for her. A subtle anger starts boiling it's way up the blonde's chest at Santana's vulgar description of his time with Kurt, one that he doesn't want to have to explain to himself. It's an accurate depiction, but that doesn't mean he has to like it, and it doesn't mean he's going to change it. Sometimes, he wishes that-

"It's not going to be enough you know. Not forever anyway." the raven haired girl say, eyes still averted.

"What do you mean?"

This time, she looks at him straight in the eye. "The sex. It's going to change for one of you." Her lips purse tightly before she continues. "One of you is going to slip. It takes a very specific person to separate sex with feelings."

"What makes you think Kurt can't?"

She doesn't smile. She doesn't need to. "I'm sure _he_ can. I meant you, Froggy Lips." That was unexpected. "Don't get me wrong, I don't think you're sappy or anything, but I know Kurt better than you think." There's another pause before a ghost of fondness twinges in her eyes. "He told Brittany something a long time ago. He told her that he loved musicals because _'The brush of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets.'_" The warm expression is difficult to keep, Sam knows. But he also knows that Santana can't help but hold it there. "She didn't get what he meant, so she asked me. I was going to tell her that the homo kid wasn't into sweet boy kisses. But then it hit me. The kid doesn't think sex and romance are the same thing."

Sam just stares at her for a moment before reaching across the table and takes hold of her drink. He brings it to his lips and lets the bitter liquid pool in his mouth before he speaks.

"Do you?"

She smiles at him. It's distant and doesn't light up her face, but it's alive. "It was for Britt and me. The sex was part of something bigger."

The blonde nods absently at her before she takes his drink. She doesn't drink it though, just brings it her nose and inhales deeply. "Mint latte. Extra hot, right?" He nods again, but she doesn't see it as she smiles down into the cup. "Britt used to get the same. Extra whip and _way_ too much sugar to be considered healthy." Santana doesn't usually say Brittany's name. It's almost like it's become harder for to to do so since the other blonde moved to L.A. to peruse a life of dancing. The raven hair girl inhales deeply one more time before meeting Sam's gaze. "Just be careful. It's going to get a lot more complicated if one of you slips."

Sam bites the inside of his cheek, like he used to do when he was nervous. It's a habit that he thought he had broken. "He did already, just once... a few weeks ago. We never talked about it since then."

Santana makes a noise in the back of her throat, eyeing him expectantly, "What happened?"

The memory is constantly close to the forefront of his mind, but hidden enough where Sam is able to pretend it isn't. It makes him anxious, his hands rhythmically clenching and unclenching when he finally decides to focus on it.

_Sam walks into Kurt's apartment after a week away from him. The brunette is curled up on his armchair with a book and a pen on his lap and a mug of probably cold coffee beside him. It isn't too often that the blonde finds him like this, and it's strange when he does. It's not the fact that Kurt is scribbling into a novel that irks him. There is something damaged in Kurt's motions, and it bothers Sam that it doesn't even seem out of place. _

_Kurt doesn't look up from his book until Sam is directly in front of him. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second before Kurt goes back to his writing. For a moment, Sam thinks that Kurt isn't in the mood today, and he's about to leave when Kurt suddenly puts the book down. _

_In an instant, Kurt's hands are on the blonde's belt, pushing him towards the bedroom. It doesn't take long before Sam is on top of the other boy, the only sound in the room is the creaking of the bed and their heavy breathing. Sam collapses beside Kurt, both trying to steady their breathing. _

_Sam's eyes drift to Kurt's window. It's just a large, square piece of glass sitting on a window pane that separates it into four smaller sections. It doesn't open, so it would be considered almost useless save for the light it gifts the room with. The blonde's eyes travel along Kurt's sleeping form, marveling at the way the sunlight presses itself against the brunette's features and Sam is suddenly thankful for a window that doesn't open._

_It's moments like this that he's able to appreciate Kurt and what he is. Kurt is like… A storm. Unpredictable. Unstoppable. The kind of beauty that was impossible to capture in a photograph and was most breathtaking when it was fueled with passion._

_Without thinking, Sam presses himself against the other teen. Their faces are very close, almost uncomfortably so. They've never kissed. Not ever, and the blonde figures this isn't a good time to start. Kurt would always turn away whenever the blonde tried to. Sam sums it up to being too personal, too cheesy or too real. _

_So instead, Sam closes his eyes and lightly presses his lips to the brunette's forehead. Kurt lets out a sleepy noise and shifts slightly._

"_I love you." whispers Kurt. It's so quite Sam almost misses it. He almost wishes he did._

_Both lay perfectly still, not making a sound or taking a breath. The deafening silence becomes too much for Sam as he opens his eyes to chance a glance at Kurt._

_The smaller boy's eyes are wide and burning with the realization of what he just said before settling to a carefully neutral expression as they fall back into a motionless limbo. Sam's pulse quickens the longer the moment hangs in the air, suddenly breaking when Kurt sighs deeply and slips out of the bed. _

_He's shoving his clothes on roughly and is looking anywhere but Sam._ _When he makes a turn for the door, the blonde grabs his arm, keeping him in place. _

"_Kurt. I- I… We…" Nothing. Nothing else comes out as the blonde desperately tries to find the right words to say. Slowly, almost as if he's afraid, Kurt's eyes meet his. They're wide and vulnerable and a million exploding words fall dead against Sam's lips._

_A smile forces its way to the corners of Kurt's mouth. "It's fine Sam." he says, gentle removing himself from the taller boy's grasp. "Let's just… Not talk about it." Sam just nods, unsure of how to approach the moment. "You should probably go."_

"So what did you do?" Santana asks, finally breaking her silence. She didn't say a thing through the story and it amazes Sam how much it seems she's actually _interested_.

He shrugs, "I left, what else?"

A range of emotions flash through the Latina's eyes before they all disappear. Her dark eyes roll at him. "Someone tells you that they love you and you leave? I get that it's just screwing, but that's not exactly what you'd like to see happen."

He doesn't tell her that it took every sane thought in his head to persuade him not to stay with Kurt, or that he had lingered outside Kurt's door hours after the brunette told him to leave. He doesn't tell her how accusing the wood felt against his skin as he pressed his forehead against the door. And he _definitely _doesn't tell her that he whispered '_I'm sorry' _ against it, knowing that his words fell onto deaf ears.

Sam doesn't tell Santana that. He's scared of what she might find beneath his words. Instead, he shrugs again. "I don't even know why he said it. Let's be legit here, it was an intimate moment, and he probably thought I was Blaine." The words are his own, yet they still sting. "You know him better than I do, and even I can tell Kurt isn't over the guy. Besides, you say a lot in the heat of the moment and don't mean most of it"

Sam knows that the 'heat of the moment_' _had long passed when Kurt made his slip, but he hopes Santana doesn't pick up on that. If she did, she doesn't comment on it.

"Have you ever read Peter Pan?"

It's an odd question, and it seems totally unrelated, but Sam answers all the same. "I saw the movie."

"If Kurt were to start flying, what do you think his happy thoughts would be?" she poses, but doesn't wait for an answer before she grabs his coffee and leaves.

"I don't know." he whispers into her cup. He makes it a point finish her drink.

- OoOoO

Four days later, Sam finds himself walking into a familiar apartment again, desperately trying to keep Santana's voice out of his head. Kurt is in the same position Sam usually finds him in, and they end up in the same place they usually do. When they've calmed their breathing Sam takes a moment to look around the brunette's room. There's barely anything in it save for the bed and a desk covered in sketches and a coffee mug. He finds a coffee mug on the windowsill as well, but there's something else beside it. He slips off the covers and pads his way to it. It's a plastic aquarium filled with water with a purple pirate ship inside. There are tiny, white, shrimp like creatures moving around in it.

"Sea monkeys." Kurt whispers from the bed. He's sitting up but his eyes are downcast. "I bought them for your birthday. I remember you didn't have a lot of patience so I thought I'd hatch them for you. I was going to give them to you a while back, but- well you know. I said something a little embarrassing." The brunette laughs, and it sounds all too forced.

Sam lets his fingers trace over the plastic letters without tearing his eyes away from Kurt. "Why sea monkeys?"

Kurt smiles at him, and it could almost be genuine. Almost. "You said that you wanted to be an astronaut one day. I thought the reason why was really… Nice."

Sam remembered that day. They were sitting with Mercedes and Tina back when he and Mercedes were still dating. They were talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up and why. Sam said that he wanted to be an astronaut so that he could look down at the world and make it look like it could fit in the palm of his hand.

"Now, I know it's not _the_ world, but it is _their_ world, and it's literally in the palm of your hand." Kurt tells him. He doesn't know what to say or feel. _Kurt remembered._ Not only did he remember a moment almost 3 years ago, but he remembered Sam's birthday. Most people outside his family forgot and he'd let it slide since it wasn't all that big of a deal. But Kurt _remembered._ "I know, I know. It's stupid. You can laugh if you-"

"Thank you." Sam says. Those words would never convey how grateful he was, but they were the only ones to escape his lips. Kurt just smiles at him.

When Sam gets home, he carefully places the aquarium on his windowsill and watches the life inside it, images of pirates and indians and flying children dancing in his mind. He knows it's not something that grown-ups should be doing, but he places a thimble beside his gift before he has the sudden urge to clap. It isn't until the next day that the blonde pulls out his phone and sends a message to Santana.

_Maybe I'm slipping too._


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Window [Part 3]

Author: simonspoopoo (seri22)

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own glee… sad face.

Warning: Future!fic, language, angst

Summary: There are times when you just have to take what you can get.

**A/N: I am SOOOO sorry for taking forever to post this story! I recently bought Sims 3 (yeah, lame excuse) and that game is SO addictive it should be illegal. My epic beta, HanJob, took it away from me though so I could focus on writing. The problem was that I started writing another fiction instead. **

**So, yeah, I'm starting a Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU with Kurt and Sam in it. I'm super excited about it, but it's going to take time away from this story, so please be patient!**

**Thanks to everyone that has story alerted, author alerted, favorite-ed, and reviewed. It means the world to me to know that people actually like this story.**

**Reviews = love! Even if it's critical, I'd love to hear what all of you think. =)**

_God gave us memories so that we might have roses in December._

It was his mother's favourite line.

It's a little ironic, Kurt muses; to favour something which brings attention to God. He still doesn't believe in religion, and from what the brunette remembers about his mother, neither did she.

It didn't matter though, because she would remind him that it was important to _remember._ She would tell him that when you love something, the face of it will live forever, so long as you close your eyes and _see _it.

And he does see it; her face, even when he opens his eyes to an empty porch swing in front of his family's house, barely after sunrise. The air around him breathes heavily of a long dead spring, compliments of the bouquet of forget-me-nots laying on the porch swing.

They were not her favourites, but he thinks they should have been, and she would laugh every time he told her so. So he brings them here- because, really, the day has just started and Kurt _refuses_ to be sad, especially when he thinks of her.

Instead, he whispers into the breeze, willing it to carry his words to ears that used to look a lot like his own.

"I thought I heard your car pull up." The brunette turns to smile at his father, who hands him a mug of something warm.

_Coffee._

"You miss her." Kurt doesn't have to answer, because it wasn't a question. Instead, the brunette watches as his dad takes a seat on the porch swing, patting the space beside him for Kurt.

They're quiet for a little while, listening as the world slowly wakes.

"You know what the easiest thing for me to remember about her was, kiddo?" he doesn't wait for Kurt to answer. "Everyday after work, I'd pull up the drive and see you guys sitting here, waiting for me. Sometimes, when I was real lucky, you guys wouldn't notice me, and I'd get to listen to her teaching you to read."

It was a long time ago, but Kurt remembers the face of that day, too, chuckling lightly as the memory takes shape in mind. "I'd make a face every time I couldn't sound out a word correctly, thinking I looked like a dragon, or a gorilla, or something."

Burt nods, laughing into his mug. "And she'd tickle your stomach when you did, said that you should try to smile when you make a mistake." A pause before the older man takes a sip out of his steaming cup. "Do you understand what she meant now?"

It's Kurt's turn to nod. He does understand, even if he finds it hard to smile after the mistakes he's been making as of late. Something coils at the pit of his stomach when he brands the word 'mistake' over the images of blonde hair running through his mind.

"I'll never forget that day you finished the book." says Burt. "You ran up to me with the biggest smile I'd ever saw on something so tiny. Do you remember that day?"Of course he remembers. The ending to that book is perhaps one of the few that Kurt has ever seen.

The brunette absently runs his fingers over the candle shaped carvings of the wooden armrest, smiling as he does so. "I asked if the boy in the story ever grows up, or if Wendy ever gets to see Peter again."

He remembers his mother smoothing the hair out of his face, cupping his cheek with her other hand. He remembers as she smiles down at him, and says that one day Wendy does get to see Peter again, so long as she keeps her window open.

Kurt hands his full mug to his dad and dusts himself off. He says that he has to head to work before kissing Burt on the cheek, promising to see him at on family dinner night.

OoOoO

Kurt hates children. _Hates_ children.

He thinks they're simply failed abortions that eat. Which is why he knows it's odd when he agreed to give up his Friday afternoon before family dinner to help Tina out at her family's daycare. She called him a few days ago and complained that since Mercedes went off traveling with her aunt at the beginning of the summer, she doesn't get to see him anymore. She said that she's worried that _no one_ sees Kurt anymore.

_Sam sees me._

He doesn't tell her, though. Instead he grits out an "_I'll be there"_.

There is something pulling at the hem of his McQueen sweater, which brings him back to the present. He's ready to snap at the _monster_ that's ruining his sweater when he looks down at the little girl. She can't be much older than seven, with dirty blonde hair tied neatly into a ponytail and brilliant green eyes look up at him expectantly, defiant, as if _refusing_ to apologize for being so bright.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Her tiny voice is confident, bold, as if she already knows the answer. The brunette moves away from the sink and the dishes he had been washing to kneel down to her height.

"Quite pretty actually, yes." It isn't untrue, so saying it doesn't bother Kurt. This little girl is going to grow up to be a very fine woman, one that will give her parents much grief when they have to worry about giving her _The Talk._

"So you'll marry me then." It isn't a question, and the brunette is pretty sure he should be hating on Tina for putting him in this uncomfortable situation. The question is annoying and slightly disturbing. Pre-pubescent girls shouldn't be thinking about clinging to another person when they have their whole lives to be depressed over it. Still, she's a little endearing.

Wiping his hands on the towel by the sink, he smiles down at her. "I'm flattered. Really, I am. But I'm batting for the other team." The corners of her mouth fall a little, and panic spikes Kurt's stomach. "Please don't cry." She doesn't look like she's about to, but he feels the need to say it. Dealing with a wailing seven year old is _not_ something the brunette had planned on.

The frown only seems to deepen. "It's ok. I'm not very pretty when I cry, anyway."

The brunette laughs fondly at her. Maybe children aren't as horrible as he had previously thought. "I'm sure you're pretty all the time."

"No, I'm really not. Neither are my brothers." Her face seems to light up with excitement, as if she's realized something. "Hey! You should marry my bigger brother!" She looks thoughtful for a moment before walking off. He watches her go, thinking he'll never understand the little creatures.

Luckily for Kurt, Tina's family daycare ends about an hour before he's supposed to be at his family's house. When the parents start to arrive to pick up their kids, Tina can't find her phone. She figures it has to be somewhere around the house, so she doesn't worry about it too much.

The little girl, from earlier, shows up out of nowhere, Tina's phone in her hand, holding it out for her to take. "Here you go Tina!"

The Goth girl takes the phone, pinching the blonde's cheeks as she does so. "Thanks Stacy. You mom is just right outside, so why don't you get your shoes on. Don't want to keep her waiting."

The blonde - Stacy, it would appear - nods and quickly slips into her shoes. It isn't until she's running down the drive way does Kurt finds her a little familiar. Not being able to place her, he brushes it off and turns to his friend.

"Isn't she just adorable?" asks Tina. "I think she has a little crush on you, though. She asked what your name was. When did you become such a chick magnet?" she asks, winking playfully at the brunette.

The brunette rolls his eyes. "Please. You women wish."

She reaches over, touching him lightly on the arm. "Call me sometime and we'll grab a soda. I miss you"

She does. She really does miss him; Kurt can see it all over her face. He nods briskly at her before slipping out.

OoOoO

When Kurt stumbles back into his apartment after dinner, it's almost surprising to find it empty.

He should be use to it all by now; the loud clicks of his heels against the floor, the chill that follows him as he pads into his too-large bedroom. The brunette settles on the foot of his bed, glancing at the reflection from the window in front of him.

He's pale, more than he used to be. What he used to consider soft and undamaged skin now looks a lot like someone who just doesn't get enough sun. Pasty. Untouched. _Undesirable. _

Fingers sprawl out against crisp sheets, unwillingly noticing their coolness. He crawls onto the bed until his head is pressed between two pillows and caresses the vacant space beside him. His fingers start to curl around the fabric of the empty pillow, realizing they have witnessed more tears and broken sobs than any person in his life. Kurt's mind slowly slips into another dangerous fantasy, one where a soft voice breathes "I love you"s against his ear, where something horrible doesn't have to happen so he can slow dance with the guy he likes at his prom, where his head is resting against a lightly tanned chest as his hands get lost in unnaturally blonde hair and he _doesn't_ feel like it's all just a fantasy.

"I wish you were closer." he whispers to himself.

OoOoO

Sam doesn't come by as often as he normally does. Between working to help out with the bills, babysitting, and coffee with Santana, the blonde finds it difficult to find any time to spend with Kurt. What's different now, though, is that when he _does_ get the chance to see Kurt, he stays longer than he used to.

Long after they've finished, long after Kurt crawls out of the covers and moves into the living room with a book in hand, Sam stays curled under the sheets, eyes closed, feigning sleep as he relishes in the scent of old coffee and something floral.

Sometimes, Kurt stays beside him and writes. Those are the times that Sam regrets what they do more than ever, because it's during those times that Sam realizes he doesn't know what Kurt is writing, or why he's writing about it.

Sam knows the spots at the bend of Kurt's knees that makes him bite his lip, and the space at the nape of his neck that he can brush with his lips that make Kurt gasp. He has memorized his body like the points of a constellation and it's easy for him to connect the stars. But he doesn't know the small things, things that would be so easy to understand if he just _asked._ Things like why he doesn't finish his coffee, or why he writes in novels, or the kind of music he listens to when he feels like he's on top of the world.

_What's your favourite colour? _

They're irrelevant and changeable over time, but right now, it seems like they're the most important things in the universe.

His senses focus on the sound of pen scratching pages to let him to know that Kurt's attention isn't on him. He cracks his eyes open just enough to let them focus on the brunette.

Kurt is sad.

It isn't quite despair, but it is folded more times than what could be considered simple disappointment and Sam wants to know _why_. He wants to _understand_, to help, to make it better.

But he doesn't. He wants to, but he doesn't. He closes his eyes instead, inching as close to the other boy as he lets himself, letting the smell of old coffee and something floral lull him to sleep.

OoOoO

_Maybe it's red._

Sam knows he's openly staring, but it doesn't seem as though anyone has noticed, too distracted by the blaring music and the grasp of alcohol. It's the 4th of July, and Sam and Puckerman were spending it with the Hummel-Hudson family, at least the day anyway. As soon as the sun went down, Puck _insisted _that they head to a nearby party in the woods. Carol had nearly disapproved if not for Finn stating that they would bring Kurt to insure that nothing too crazy happened. It was unfair to the brunette, they all knew, but no one, not even Kurt, protested.

And so, here they were, surrounded drunken teenagers and cheap beer, with Sam staring at the profile of Kurt's bright red trench coat. The blonde tears his eyes away from the other boy, looking over at Puck and Finn. The two of them are half past tipsy, and from the bottles clutched in their hands, it's clear they aren't stopping anytime soon.

His eyes find themselves trailing back towards the tall, lean figure. The brunette is standing with his arms wrapped securely around himself, leaning awkwardly against a tree well away form the rest of the group before their eyes meet. Despite the warm weather, Kurt looks cold, uncomfortable, and it has nothing to do with how warm it is. Biting the inside of his cheek, the blonde takes a step towards the other boy when a hand is pressed against his chest and he looks at the girl attached to the limb. Dark curls outline the sloppy smile painted on her face and she looks up at him.

"Mm'Tara" She slurs out. He wants to roll his eyes, but before he has a chance, she's pressing a glass into his hand. His eyes dart back to Kurt, almost wishing they hadn't.

Kurt's eyes are still plastered on him, but only for another moment as someone pulls at the sleeve of his coat. It's a woman, one that is wearing a bright smile and a coat that looks very similar to his. She's saying something, gesturing animatedly, but they're too far for Sam to understand any of it.

The girl in front of him - Tara, was it? - is saying speaking again, has been for a while, but Sam isn't paying her any attention. His total focus is on the hand that is _still_ on Kurt's sleeve, slowly moving up and down in deliberate strokes. They're laughing. _Laughing,_ as the woman takes the hem of her coat and twirls around like it's a dress.

_How can anyone wear a coat in this fucking heat?_ It's bitter and immature and Sam has no right to think those thoughts but he doesn't care because in ten minutes that stupid _girl_ has Kurt looking like he's having the time of his life.

_I can't even make him smile. _The blonde thinks, lowering his eyes to the glass in his hands. _Not like he means it, at least._

Slowly, he brings the glass to his lips and tosses it back, accepting the burning in his throat like he deserves it.

Sam tries to listen to the Tara girl, who is still talking, nodding when it seems appropriate. It becomes impossible when the woman talking to Kurt sets down her bottle and takes the brunette's hand. She drags him towards the makeshift alcohol table, swaying their joint hands like pendulum as it counts the beats in Sam's ears.

Kurt is giggling, and Sam can't help but feel the familiar throb of jealousy as I kicks against his stomach. It's difficult not to, as this stranger gets to talk to Kurt, make him laugh, hold his _hand_ like it's the most natural thing in the world and do it like she has the right to, knowing that no one is going to throw a slushy in her face or toss her into dumpsters because _she_ acted on _her_ desires.

Suddenly, the moon seems too bright, the music not loud enough, and the world just too clear. "Let's get another drink." he says, holding the glass in front of Tara and treads towards the alcohol table, not really caring that he cut her off from whatever she was saying.

They approach the table, and Kurt seems totally oblivious to his presence. The woman wraps an arm around Kurt's and he leans in annoyingly close, whispering something in her ear. She belts out a laugh before she hands him a shot.

"You know, you seem really epic," The woman says to Kurt, "the kinda guy that gets a kick outta making people feel good." She looks pensive for a second before a wicked grin glides across her face. "If only we were both lesbians, you'd probably be great at eating kitty."

They're both laughing, and Sam isn't sure if he wants to punch her in the face or get lost in the sound of a Kurt that isn't sad for a moment. "Let's drink to that!" says the brunette before they raise their glasses. They start walking away a moment later, and Sam wants to follow them, but a shot is being pressed into his hand. He looks down at the glass in his hand, then back to Kurt before tossing it back.

"More?" asks Tara.

He nods at Tara, eyes never leaving the profile of the red trench coat.

OoOoO

He's lost count of the shots he's had, but he knows how many times Kurt has laughed tonight, so he _knows_ that he's well trashed. Something is vibrating in his hand and he looks down. Santana's messaging him.

'_Crocodile? What are you talking about, Trouty Mouth?' _He puzzles at her message before looking through his outbox, giggling at what he finds.

'_sum1 hsa 2 hleppo ihm a4 the kckracodile eats hm.' _That was the message he sent to Santana.

There's an annoying buzzing just to the right of him as Sam gives up on the message he was typing to the raven hair girl before calling her.

"Come get us." is all he says before hanging up. Something shifts on Sam's lap and he looks down. Tara is fast asleep on his lap, hair completely covering her face. It's totally irrational, but in his drunken state, it's easy for the blonde to fear that she might choke on her hair and die, maybe even burst into flames. He reaches down and pushes her curls out of her face, patting her head lightly as he does.

He looks up, and for a full second, Kurt meets his gaze again. The brunette's eyes seem heavy as they bear down on him, uncomfortable like they were at the beginning of the night and Sam hates it. Just like that, it's over, and the brunette's attention is on the woman beside him again.

Kurt doesn't look at him for the rest of the night. Not even when Santana pulls up in her little silver car, yelling at them to get in. The buzzing to Sam's right is back again as he wakes Tara up, but he doesn't notice it because the woman in front of Kurt is grasping the brunette's face hard and pulls him into a closed mouth kiss. Kurt giggles into it, pushing her away and makes gagging noises, but Sam doesn't hear them either. His face is burning, fists clenched tightly at his sides and the buzzing seems to get louder as he's ready to take a step forward and-

_SLAM!_

The ground is getting closer before it hits him hard in the face. The right side of his mouth is suddenly throbbing and he can hear laughing in the background. Someone - Finn- is pulling him to his feet. His hands move instinctively to his cheek.

"Sorry dude," says a very drunk Puck, "There was like, a huge ass bee at your face. I didn't want you to get stung and shit."

Sam doesn't say anything, instead climbs into the front seat of Santana's car before completely passing out.

OoOoO


End file.
